Wheildon

our old cottage was full of history.  the longer we lived there, the more we learned.  gardeners who had worked for previous owners in their younger days had lots of stories to tell.  some of our acquaintances pointed out which rooms they had been born in.  for example, when we bought the cottage, ginny and i were standing outside one morning discussing how to renovate.  an old coloured man walked across the market square to ask for work.  he said that he had worked for the previous owner and knew the property well.  he showed us our back rooms off the main cottage which he claimed were donkey stables.  he was right, for the feeding troughs were still there.  he said the stock whips that he had made hung in the kitchen behind the door.  as the kitchen door had been open the day we bought the cottage, we had not touched it.  a quick look out of curiosity revealed two old stock whips still hanging there!  i was thrilled.

in one of the rooms, there was a small cupboard made out of an old tomato box.  i had to take it down during renovation and still own it to this day.  it belongs to the cottage, so one day i will take it back to greyton and hand it over to the present owner.

oom piet tickey, from whose estate we bought the cottage, was a frugal man.  greyton was not an affluent village in its early days, and the inhabitants lived a simple life.  oom piet was no exception and lived by his wits as well as growing his own vegetables.  he got his nickname by sheer brilliance.

weekenders were fair game, and it was on these that oom piet preyed.

in the early days, he liked to phone his relations from time to time, but was reluctant to spend a whole tickey at the public phone.  he would loiter around waiting for a weekender to make a call.  at the right moment he would approach, pretending to be ignorant and simple.  he would engage his quarry in conversation, asking how the instrument worked and encouraging them to demonstrate.  hardly believing that anyone could be ignorant as to the workings of a telephone, they would pop in a tickey and dial the number he casually gave them.  before they realized it, he had caught them.  once connected, he launched into a family discussion and waved his victims away.

it became a well-known performance, and one not to be missed by the locals in the pub opposite.  success would buy him a drink, but jeers and hoots of laughter ensued if he failed.

it was a standing joke in the village that there existed two time zones: greenwich mean time and greyton time.  arrangements made for specific times seldom took place, and one could be very thankful if in fact they happened on the same day.  greyton was so laid back that some of the elderly residents still supported the old united party, which had long ceased to exist.  on the day we first saw our cottage the united party's election posters of sir de villiers graaf greeted us, his smiling face doing its best to keep out the rain in several broken window panes facing the street.

as i mentioned earlier, i marvel at the simple way of life in those old days.  no running water except for the leiwater, no electricity, no doctor, no luxury.  severe winters, with snow on the mountains.  finally, if the need arose, caledon was 36 kilometres away by wagon or horse.

i recall two spinsters and their brother who lived halfway up the main road.  they were the fouries, otherwise fondly known as ‘die osboere’.  even as late as 1987, when we moved to greyton, they lived without running water and electricity.  one of the sisters is still alive.  when the old brother gave up ploughing and planting with his span of oxen for villagers, he purchased an old, battered bakkie.  this was his pride and joy.  he drove it like his span of oxen.  i can see him now, crouched over the wheel, a picture of concentration.  the fouries attended the dutch reformed church service every sunday morning.  the sisters, having the choice of a ride, always opted to walk, leaving their brother to drive in his bakkie.

during his ownership of this remarkable vehicle, i don't think it ever exceeded 20 kph.  whether he ever had a driver’s licence i do not know.  what i do know is that, when he took to the road, no one took their eyes off him for a second.